Millwork

Granddad was a sailor

And he blew in off the water

My father was a farmer

And I his only daughter

I took up with an no-good millworking man from Massachusetts

Who died from too much whiskey

And leaves me these three faces to feed

Millwork ain't easy

Millwork ain't hard

Millwork most often is a goddamn awful boring job

And I'm waiting for a daydream

To take me through the morning

And put me in my coffee break

Where I can have my sandwich and remember

And it's me and my machine

For the rest of the morning

For the rest of the afternoon

And the rest of my life

My mind begins to wander

To the days back on the farm

And I can see my father smiling at me

Swinging on his arm

And I can hear my granddad's stories

Of the storms on old Mercury

Vessels and cargos

Fortunes and sailors lives were lost

It's my life has been wasted

And I have been a fool

To let this manufacturer use my body for a tool

I get to ride home in the evening

Staring at my hands

Swearing by my sorrow

That a young girl ought to stand a better chance

And may I work this mill

Just as long as I am able

And never meet the man

Whose name is on the label

It's me and my machine

For the rest of the morning

For the rest of the afternoon, gone

And the rest of my life